Booth Tarkington and "Penrod"
By Robert S. Sargent, Jr.
web posted June 14, 2004
One of the inspirations for this column comes from the
Washington Post book critic, Jonathan Yardley's "Occasional
Series" called "Second Reading," which "…reconsiders notable
and/or neglected books from the past." The other came from an
article in The Atlantic, May '04 issue, titled, "Hoosiers, (The Lost
World of Booth Tarkington)" written by the novelist, Thomas
Mallon. I was raised on "Penrod," by Booth Tarkington, and
now is a good time to reconsider this largely forgotten author.
Most people probably know the film, "The Magnificent
Ambersons," as an excellent 1942 movie directed by Orson
Wells. How many know it was written by Tarkington, and was
one of two Tarkington books to win the Pulitzer Prize? The other
was "Alice Adams."
Thomas Mallon rightly points out that the great body of
Tarkington's work is mediocre. He gives credit to only the two
books that won the Pulitzer. I agree that these books deserve
some reconsideration, especially "Alice Adams." It is a painful
story full of realistic bitterness, anger, and humiliation. It does,
however, have a happy ending, not in the sense that Alice
Adams finally gets what she longed for throughout the book, but
the fact that she realizes she can't get what she always wanted.
The maturation of Alice Adams before our eyes sets up a truly
beautiful ending (Mr. Tarkington, as we shall see, was good at
endings).
I do not agree, however, that these two are the only good books
Tarkington wrote. I would nominate two more: "Penrod," and
the practically unknown "Rumbin Galleries."
Reading Tarkington today, there is a problem of political
incorrectness. In "Rumbin Galleries," written in 1936, a man
wouldn't consider asking a girl on even a date unless his salary is
at least equal to hers. Tarkington, who has a huge knowledge of
the art world, creates a hilarious story of an ambitious art-dealer
named Rumbin who has an accent that I defy anyone to identify.
Rumbin hires a Howard Cattlet (solely on his "aristocratic dumb
face") to be his assistant. Rumbin introduces him to his secretary:
"I intaduce you to Georchie; but don't you call her Georchie –
her name's my sec'tary Miss Georchina Horne." A romance
develops, but it is not pursued until the end of the book when
Cattlet gets a raise that equals his salary with Georgina's. The
ending here is not beautiful like Alice Adams, but I can't imagine
a sweeter one (except maybe "Penrod's"). After Howard (who is
not dumb) talks to Georgina about his raise, and determines that
she isn't sorry hers was raised at the same time, he says,
"Georgina – Georgina, I've waited a long time to – to ask you if
you think you ever could – ever could –" "Yes, I ever could," she
said. Every man's dream response: "Yes, I ever could!"
In "Penrod," (written in 1913) we have bigger pc problems. The
"n" word is occasionally used (and it's not Negro) to describe
some of Penrod's darker friends. It turns out there is a
bowdlerized edition of "Penrod," and Paul Fussell, the literary
and social critic, addresses this in his book, "The Boy Scout
Handbook." Apparently, Fussell's daughter brought home a
"Penrod" that was so edited that entire meanings were changed.
A chapter titled "Coloured Troops in Action," (Changed to
"Troops in Action") a chapter about Penrod and his black
friends, is full of pc corrections. In writing about the chapter,
Fussell compares Tarkington to Mark Twain: "Tarkington's
point, here and elsewhere, is Twain's: dogs, Negroes, and white
boys occupy essentially the same universe, one happily distant
from that peopled by adult Whites like policemen, dancing and
music masters, school teachers, parents, barbers, the clergy, and
other Establishment personnel. This point is effectively blunted by
the expurgator…"
Like history, fiction cannot be judged by today's standards. If the
"n" word so disturbs you, don't read "Penrod," or Mark Twain,
or Joseph Conrad, or watch "Kind Hearts and Coronets." To
read and enjoy "Penrod," one must transport oneself 100 years
and recognize the cultural differences. Apparently, Thomas
Mallon is unable to transport himself. He not only can't accept
Fussell's premise (at least in whole), he can't recognize the
lifestyle differences: "It is left to Penrod's charmlessness [to]…kill
the book.… [Penrod] tries our patience mostly by the paltriness
of his mischief…the author is too well behaved, not a good
enough liar, to imagine this boy." The only way one could call
Penrod's mischief, "paltry," is to compare it to today's world of
video and computer games, TV, and special effect movies.
One hundred years ago, children had to use their imagination to
amuse themselves. With videos and computers, kids don't have
to make up stuff, but when they do, they, like children of all ages,
can be funny to the extreme. My 8 year-old granddaughter,
Rachel, found a cane I had used after an injury. She started
hobbling around, stating, after making an O with her mouth,
covering her teeth, "I'm 101 years old and I don't have any teeth.
Have you seen Rachel you whippersnapper?" she said poking
me with the end of the cane. "By the way, by the time you plant
that maple you were talking about and it starts growing, you're
gonna be dead!" "Penrod" is full of these universal funny things
kids do and say that any parent or grandparent immediately
recognizes and appreciates.
"Penrod" has another great ending. A new girl (Fanchon) comes
to town, and at a dance party, she teaches Penrod how to do the
"Slingo Sligo Slide." Penrod secretly adores a girl named
Marjorie, who ignores Penrod throughout the book. But when
she sees him "assume the double embrace" with Fanchon, she
"…made a scene. She…stamped her foot. ‘Penrod Schofield,'
she shouted. ‘You BEHAVE yourself!' The remarkable girl took
Penrod by the ear." She continued berating him, and when he
finally protests, Marjorie says, "'you be quiet!' she cried, tears
filling her eyes. ‘Keep still! You ugly boy. Shut up!' She slapped
him." Here, I am reminded of a scene in the movie "The Piano"
where Holly Hunter slaps Harvey Keitel. A very moving scene,
indeed, as it's the only way she knows how to say, "I love you."
Well, Tarkington used that same technique 100 years ago. After
getting slapped, Tarkington says of Penrod, "He should have
understood from this how much she cared for him." The
unsophisticated Penrod didn't understand until Marjorie tosses a
note over his fence. "In the grass…there lay a white note, folded
in the shape of a cocked hat, and the sun sent forth a final
amazing glory as Penrod opened it and read: "you're my bow."
Thomas Mallon, speaking of "Penrod," asks rhetorically, "Has
anyone read the sequels?" Well, I have, and so has Jonathan
Yardley. Mr. Yardley gave me permission to tell my (millions of)
readers that sometime in July or August, his "Second Reading"
column will be about "Penrod's" sequel, "Penrod and Sam." We
"Penrod" lovers can't wait!
Robert S. Sargent, Jr. is a senior writer for Enter Stage Right
and can be reached at rssjr@citcom.net.
Enter Stage Right -- http://www.enterstageright.com